


I'm not your Prom Queen

by PhakeFysics



Series: Fallen Hero - Abyss/Anton [8]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Other, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 14:03:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20292667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhakeFysics/pseuds/PhakeFysics





	I'm not your Prom Queen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SephtisThan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SephtisThan/gifts).

It was your own damn fault, really. But you needed to find a better alternative short of a ski mask of some sort. It was frustrating, you had already made Mortem adjust the helmet twice now and still, your hair kept slipping out. You were huddled on the roof of a building, praying the dark would shield you for the few, vulnerable moments. 

The fact that your helmet was off kept it from alerting you to the presence now on the roof with you. You were helmetless and capeless at this juncture, crouched low in the shadows as best you could be, fussing with your braid, the clips clenched between your teeth. 

Your hair was over your shoulder, your fingers nimbly rebraiding the tail end before moving to tie the hair tie back around.

You were about to hiss a curse between your teeth, when a claw tip touched the crown of your head, then carefully drug its way down the back of your skull, then _click-click-click_ slowly down the spinal plates of your suit. Your breath caught in your throat, and you were glad the sudden presence couldn’t see the look of horror plastered on your face.

“My, my… what lovely hair. Who knew Abyss had such a beautiful head full of it,” The low growling voice hit your ears and you felt your heart drop into your stomach in fear. Your voice wasn’t modulated. There was nothing to shield you now. One claw to the skull. You were exposed. And that bastard knew it.

You didn’t move, your hands still at the end of your hair as he force yourself to quickly recompose your features, but your shoulders are still tense. You just hear Apollo chuckle, “What’s the matter?” He purrs, hand gently pulling your braid from your fingers and letting it pass between those razor sharp claws. 

Something in you snaps. How DARE he. In one swift motion, you hunch and sweep that bastards legs, forcing him to topple and trip. You don't hesitate to grab his arm, wrenching it behind his back as you slam him onto his stomach, straddling his back. 

“Do /Not/ touch my hair,” you hiss lowly, as you make sure to push his face into the roof, using his hood to obscure his vision. You hoped he didn’t see you. Anonymity was your shield, your weapon. You couldn’t afford to let anyone see what Abyss’ face truly was. 

Abyss wasn’t supposed to have a face, but damn, someone needed to drive the train off the rails, and Anton was going to be the one to do it. Provided you could keep it up. 

Apollo just chuckles, not fighting under you just yet, but you could tell he was calculating his options. “Feisty tonight, aren’t we?” he purred lowly and you flicked a glance at your helmet. 

You only grunt, rolling off of him and grabbing your helmet, hurriedly shoving it onto your head. Your hair would have to wait.   
As soon as the helmet clicked into place, the seals hissing, your ankle is grabbed and your dragged across the roof, Apollo settling over you in a comfortable straddle. You could almost hear the disappointment that your helmet was back on. You were so glad for your agility in these times. However, your braid of ebony hair lay splayed to the side and his face plate look at it with interest. 

“You’re a bastard, Apollo. You wanted a deal and you haven’t given anything in return,” your modulators hiss, working as normal. Now you could let your panicked expression leak through as you tried to keep his attention off the one thing you wanted him to stay far away from. 

He growls in what you think is the man underneath giving a curious hum, and he runs his clawed gauntlet along the jaw of your helm, seeming to weigh his options. “That is true, I suppose… What do you want?” he purred thoughtfully, the claw tip tracing down the center of your helmet. You don’t dare attempt to shove him off - the reflective nature of your helmet alone cost one third of the armor, and you’d be damned if some cocksure braggart was about to fuck it up in trying to be coy with you.

You sigh, lying under him and what you hope comes across as resignation, “Well… You’re beginning to really push your luck here. You wanted to see my work up close. You keep acting like this and I’ll make sure you never hear about anything I do until you see it on the news, distant and impersonal,” you threaten coldly.

You wonder if that’s really what he wanted, or if he honestly wanted something else from you. Wouldn’t he just have said as much if he wanted your bombs or skills of infiltration? You’re not sure. But right now, you are sure that your patience is growing increasingly thin. You wait for him to lean back before shoving him off of you as you roll for your cape. 

Grabbing it in hand and springing to your feet, you glare at Apollo, moving to place your cape back into position, popping the collar and putting the hood up. “Come back to me when you have an offer. Until then, fuck off,” you quip, not hesitating before leaping off the roof and hoping to slide between the ally ways unseen, unheard, and unfollowed.


End file.
